


The Boss 4

by LanceTheFuckerTucker



Series: The Boss [4]
Category: Bucky Barnes - Fandom, The Avengers
Genre: 70's Bucky AU, Bucky Barnes owns a strip club, Cunnilingus, F/M, Self Defence 101, and it's awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 23:29:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9520826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LanceTheFuckerTucker/pseuds/LanceTheFuckerTucker
Summary: Bucky teaches you how to defend yourself after your disastrous first shift at Legs and you get one step closer to finding out the identity of Stark's informant operating within the club.





	

You slipped quietly out of Angie’s twin bed, fumbling through the darkness for something to wear. You scooped up enough clothes from the floor to put together an outfit of sorts. 

Last night, sleep had barely touched your eyes. Not after what happened. Not after what you saw. You had so many unanswered questions about Bucky. About Stark. About Nat. About Legs.

Using the strips of light shining through the curtains from the streetlight next to the window, you navigated the path carved by discarded clothes on the floor. And then you tripped over a rogue shoe. Busted.

Angie stirred. 

“That you, honey?” she groaned, sitting up. 

“Yeah, I have to pee, go back to bed,” you whispered, the annoyance cutting through your tone. 

You made your way to the bathroom before she could ask questions about your first shift at Legs. You weren’t off the hook yet. Angie was eager for dirty details.

As you re-entered her bedroom, she was still sitting in the same spot, patiently waiting. “So, how was your shift?” she grinned. 

“Ange, I don’t have time for this,” you pressed. 

The sound of a car pulling into the lot below distracted you. 

“I have to go, but I will tell you all about it later,” you promised.

You heard her call after you as you scurried out of the apartment, but you had places to be.

Closing the door behind you, you hastily descended the rickety wooden steps to the lot where Bucky’s dark green mustang was waiting. He was sitting in the drivers’ seat, nonchalantly puffing away at a cigarette. Smoked streamed from the cranked drivers' window. He casually draped a denim-clad arm out of the window to flick the cigarette away when he saw you coming.

The sun hadn’t risen yet and a blanket of fog wrapped itself around everything in sight. The scene befitted your mood as you walked into the glare of the headlights and got in beside him. 

He was going to teach you how to avoid mishaps like last night.

On the other side of the city, Tony Stark sat in the decadent study of his apartment, quietly seething as details of last night’s incident were relayed to him. 

“I don’t know how it happened, sir, the plan was air tight. Stephen was supposed to get the girl, clear the joint and then lure Barnes back here,” the informant grovelled.

Stark peered over his tinted glasses, barely able to contain his temper. “I know what the plan was. I don’t pay you to fuck up like this.”

“What now?”

“You’re going to have to up your game. Does Barnes still trust you?”

“I think so.”

“Does the girl?”

“I don’t know.”

The coupe zoomed along at break-neck speed as you sat uneasily beside your boss. Most would be forgiven for thinking Bucky Barnes was a cold, calculating thug with a short fuse. But he wasn't. Not all the time. In fact, on this hazy Sunday morning, his presence was reassuring. Rather than silently wait out the journey to wherever Bucky was planning on taking you, he attempted to make conversation.

“I remember the first time I saw someone get killed,” he mused, eyes trained on the road.

“Yeah?” you sighed, raising your eyebrows. 

He nodded, “my mom killed my stepfather when I was fifteen. I helped her bury the body. No one ever found out. Back in those days you could disappear someone easily if you moved in the right circles. Just couldn’t stop from there.”

Just like that, you were reminded of what Bucky was capable of, offset by the measure of reassurance he had shown you at each of your encounters. 

Sensing your unease, he attempted to backtrack. His tone was empathetic, “sorry kiddo, I just… I’ve been there.”

“Do you want me to kill people?” you asked, wondering if you had inadvertently been set on that same trajectory.

He sank back in his seat slightly, sighing.

“If they’re gonna kill you, I want you to kill them first. It's for your own good,” he said plainly.

You weren’t sure if you had it in you to kill anyone. 

You stared out the window, taking in all the closed shop fronts and deserted streets. You were nearing the meatpacking district. You could tell by the grey facades on the buildings and the handful of all-night bars interspersed with storage spaces.

“Nat told me you used to work as a hitman,” you stated.

“I did. I’m not gonna lie. That’s how I’m in this mess now. But that’s a story for a different day,” he sighed. 

You quietly absorbed his words.

“Let’s just focus on teaching you how to rip a guy’s nuts off today,” Bucky said, trying to lighten the mood.

He placed a reassuring hand on your thigh. 

Eventually the car turned onto a seemingly abandoned warehouse lot. Shards of scrap metal blazed orange in the rising sun, while cars puckered with bullet holes lined themselves up in rows of burned out black. If you were inclined to murder, this would be the place you’d do it. 

You shot Bucky a concerned look.

“Oh no, don't worry,” he began, quick to talk you down, “we just need a place where no one’s gonna look for us. I don’t want anyone at the club knowing about this.”

“Why?” you asked, shaking your head.

“Because everyone at that club thinks you’re some cute, innocent little college girl,” Bucky explained, stepping out of the car and slamming the door. 

You weren’t a typical tough-girl, sure, but you felt a small shred of yourself becoming offended by that statement. 

“This plan’s only gonna work if we keep it that way. This is as much about dealing with threats from the outside as it is from the inside. It’s gonna hurt them more if they believe you’re exactly what they think you are. They need to underestimate you.”

“Got it,” you said, following him over to the warehouse. You still weren’t convinced where he was going with this plan.

Bucky removed a set of keys from his pockets and undid the padlock on the metal door that was practically rusted off of its hinges, pushing it open with an ear piercing creak.

You were two steps behind as you followed him into the facility. The smell of damp crept its way into your nostrils. It was so cold that you could see your own breath billowing in front of you. The facility was this vast, empty, soul-sucking space. You were certain those walls had seen their fair share of bloodshed.

Bucky wandered into the centre of the room, his voice ricocheting off of the walls, “here’s the deal, kiddo, I’m gonna come at you, you’re gonna beat the crap out of me, understand?”

You nodded.

Very quickly you realised that you didn't have it in you to tackle a man to the ground, let alone kill anyone. Each time Bucky swooped on you, he had you pinned within seconds. You had no time to think before his weight was on you, disarming you completely. 

It took you long enough before you started making progress. Once the initial thrill of having such close physical contact with Bucky had worn off, of course. It didn’t help matters that Bucky had prior experience in fighting. Or that he was taller, faster and stronger than you.

You weren’t anticipating him to be so rough with you as he yanked your hair or attempted to put you into a chokehold. Every inch of your body ached, bruises strewn over you skin. You were ready to give up around the one hour mark. It took two before it enraged you completely.

You were a complete mess, beads of sweat tracked down your brow, your usually perfect hair slipping from your ponytail (Bucky, on the other hand, remained perfectly calm throughout). But your senses were heightened, standing in the middle of the warehouse with your back to the audible footsteps approaching you. 

And then your elbow caught Bucky’s jaw with just the right amount of force to send him stumbling backwards. You whipped around and gave him a swift knee to the crotch that had him doubled over in agony. You tackled him for good measure, sending both of you to the floor.

It was then that you realised that this was less about your strength than it was your awareness. You were stunned. You managed to drop Bucky Barnes.

“I let you win that one, kiddo,” he grunted, as you rolled off of him and onto your back. 

You were breathless, lying on the hard concrete. Your chest heaved, straining against your crop t-shirt. Eyes trained on the ceiling, you struggled to regain your composure. In reality, you were just reeling from the tension in the room.

Bucky sat up, looking down at you, moving into your field of vision. “You finally got it, kiddo.”

You grinned at those words.

Seeing you bask in that praise, Bucky’s expression softened as he fixed his gaze on your lips, biting at his own. “Maybe next week I can teach you how to shoot,” he offered, resting his hand on your hip.

You moved your weight onto your elbows just to get that little bit closer to Bucky. “I’d like that.”

Bucky closed the gap between you without a second thought, driving his lips against your and sending you floating back to the floor. His figured loomed over you, cloaking you in swathes of dark hair as his tongue slowly began to work its way past your lips, colliding with your own. You let out a contented moan and raked your fingernails over his scalp. It felt glorious, being pinned under his weight.

You knew his calloused hands were capable of unspeakable horrors but when one of them traveled gently up your ribcage you yearned for more. Your t-shirt had been edged over your chest; nipples hardening against the chill.

That was quickly replaced by the delicious warmth of Bucky’s breath as he moved lower, claiming regions of you that had never been claimed before. He briefly lavished attention on your breasts, greedily biting at your nipples before resuming his journey down your horse with a trail of kisses. The dread and the nerves you should have felt were quick to dissipate as he unbuttoned your jeans and inched them lower down your thighs, taking your underwear with them.

Bucky settled between your legs, perched on his elbows. He looked up at you as he teased. That look in his eye fuelling your anticipation of what was to come. Wet, lazy kisses peppered your abdomen while his fingertips dug into your thighs as they trailed north. You squirmed under his touch. You couldn’t contain your need any longer. 

“Bucky please,” you gasped.

You heard a laugh escape him. And then you felt his mouth move to where you needed it most.

It was a rare treat for Bucky too. He was so used to being worshipped. But he loved going down on a woman more. He was going to savour this as he swept broad strokes over your soaked slit. 

The sensation was unlike anything you had ever experienced before but every move he made had you craving more. You weren’t looking at him anymore, rather you focused on one of the rafters high above you as you felt your breathing quicken as his tongue began to work its way between your folds, finding your clit and drawing loose circles around it. You could barely bring yourself to make a sound. Instead, you found yourself focusing on each drawn-out movement Bucky made and the heat beginning to rise up inside of you.

You were nearly silent, but your hips told a different story as they writhed underneath Bucky’s grasp. He loved the quiet ones the most. He loved seeing how far he could take them before they began cursing under their breath or giving sheepish moans. It was a game to him.  
He knew how to play it well. He had barely began darting his tongue over your clit when you were grasping at handfuls of his hair and breathlessly begging him not to stop. He didn’t. He was an expert at this. 

He sent you over the edge, in mere seconds, as you cursed his name.

Coming down, you glanced between your thighs to find Bucky still perched there, smirking up at you, his face glistening with your arousal. There was no doubt about it, he was pleased with himself. 

You sat up, leaning in to kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips and for just a second he went with it, pushing stray strands of hair from your face. Then he broke away. “We should get going,” he said, ripping you out of your daze.

The ride back to Angie’s was silent. 

You thanked your lucky stars Angie worked on Sundays.

You showed up at Legs that evening with renewed confidence. The kick you got from thinking about what had happened with your boss in the morning was far more potent than any drug or any drink. Swaggering your way into the lounge before your shift, Luis was waiting to take your order. 

“You know, I wasn’t expecting to see you back here,” he winked, “not after last night. I heard all about that.”

You laughed: “Well Luis, it’ll take more than one of Stark’s henchmen to keep me down!”

“Everyone here is taking bets on who the snitch is,” he offered, sliding you a measure of whisky.

“Is that right, Luis?” you said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Oh yeah, everyone has a different motive. I got lots of theories but I’m not much of a betting man so I just stay out of it.”  
And then came the familiar greeting. “Hey Sweetie!”

You still hadn’t processed your feelings regarding Nat and last night. After all, she was the one who led you into that situation. She should have known better.

She sat down on the stool beside you and ordered a martini. She turned to face you, reaching out a slender hand to touch your arm. “Are you ok?” she asked, a concerned look on her sharp features. 

“I guess,” you responded curtly. 

“Look, I didn’t know about Stephen, I swear to you,” she pleaded. 

Nat went there first and suddenly you weren’t so sure of her intentions. Maybe she was the snitch at the club?

“I’m just a little shaken up,” you admitted, testing the water and analysing her reaction. 

Nat delved a crimson fingered hand into the pocket of her leather jacket and pulled out a small, round box. She shook out a single pink pill and slipped it to you. “Try one of these, it’ll take the edge off.”

“No, I don’t… Maybe later,” you trailed off, holding up a hand and stashing the pill in the pocket of your raincoat. 

Nat shrugged and finished her drink. “I’ll leave it with you anyway,” she said, before walking back down the dark corridor. 

You ordered another whisky, buying yourself more time to overthink Nat’s motives.

Your second shift at Legs wasn’t nearly as traumatic as your first. In fact, you were beginning to enjoy the attention as you danced and flirted the night away. 

You ended up spending most of the evening with a bachelor party from out West, dancing with one of the other girls. Peggy, her name was. She was English and still rocked the mod look. 

The men were respectful, buying you both drinks and tipping generously, never once laying a finger on either of you (“His fiancée probably had him well warned,” Peggy remarked as you wandered away from them). You finished your second shift twice as rich as you were after two weeks at your old job at the convenience store. And with any luck, you wouldn’t have to leech off of Angie much longer. But your finances were the least of your worries now. Your high-paying job had you in all kinds of hot water with no way out.

You wandered down the dark corridor on weary legs when midnight struck. Your shift was over.

The dressing rooms at Legs were smaller than a can of sardines and the hairspray fumes, you were certain, constituted an environmental hazard. You barely had the space to pull on your coat without elbowing Peggy on the jaw by accident. Thrusting a hand into the pocket of your coat, the pink pill was gone. But you shrugged it off, spilling out of the bustling room and heading towards Bucky’s office at the end of the corridor.

The door was open just a sliver, but it was enough for you to hear, and then see, what was happening inside. It tied your insides into knots.

Bucky sat, partially clothed, with his back to the door, while another smaller frame rolled against him. Satisfied sighs escaped the two figures as they moved in sync. And then you saw a flash of red hair. It was Nat. Your jaw clenched. 

Had she meant for you to see this?

What was Bucky playing at?

You had seen enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, folks! Any and all feedback greatly appreciated!


End file.
